


Pride Goeth

by Gayeld



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Alternate Universe, Sacred Cow Slaughtered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-23 22:41:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayeld/pseuds/Gayeld
Summary: Tom Barkley receives a telegram asking him to help Leah's gravely ill child.  While Leah tries to hide the identity of her son's father, Tom learns actions have consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: ** Not mine, but Heath sure would look good in my bedroom and I promise only to beat him with silk scarves.  
**Spoilers for:** Palms of Glory, Boots With My Father’s Name  
**Author's Notes:** Parts of this were posted ages ago at The Big Valley Writing Desk. Since then it's languished in my WIP folder. I'm hoping to give it a little bit of the attention it deserves.

_THOMAS BARKLEY_  
BARKLEY RANCH  
STOCKTON, CALIFORNIA 

_PLEASE HELP STOP SON GRAVELY ILL NEED DOCTOR STOP PLEASE TOM STOP_

_LEAH THOMSON  
STRAWBERRY, CALIFORNIA_

Tom Barkley read the words in the telegram once again, an old familiar guilt tearing away at his gut as he did. Leah. A name that had haunted him for close to nine years. A mistake he had tried to put in the past by devoting himself to his wife and children. Now this telegram, asking for his help, begging for the life of her son. 

A burst of childish laughter from outside stabbed at his heart and he wandered to the window to watch as eleven-year-old Nicholas hoisted his baby brother up in the air while Audra watched on and laughed. How could he help Leah with all he stood to lose?

“My turn, Nicky! My turn!” Audra’s voice, bright with laughter and bubbling with enthusiasm, flowed over him and his thoughts turned back to the beautiful young woman who had saved his life, taking him in and nursing him back to health. A woman now apparently alone and desperate for the life of her child. How could he not help after all Leah had done for him and all he had taken from her?

Knowing there was no other choice open to him, he turned away from the window and called out for Silas.

“Yes, Mr. Barkley?”

“Silas, tell Ciego to saddle my horse.”

“Yes, Mr. Barkley.”

That task accomplished, Tom started slowly up the stairs. There was still the matter of what to tell Victoria. His wife was no fool and there had been no mistaking the look in her eyes when he’d returned, hat in hand, from Strawberry, or the determined way she’d avoided any discussion of his time there. Her unspoken message had been quite clear, whatever had happened there was past and that was where it would stay.

“Tom?” Victoria’s voice reached him as he topped the stairs, warm, concerned, with just a touch of curiosity. “Silas tells me that you’re having Ciego saddle up your horse. Are you going into Stockton?”

He turned, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty that still stole his heart after all these years and all the trials they had been through, and cleared his throat. “No, Victoria, I’m afraid something has come up, some old business that I must attend to.”

“Old business?” she asked, climbing the stairs as she eyed him uncertainly. “What kind of old business?”

“Not out here, please.” Tom motioned toward their bedroom down the hall. “We can talk while I pack.”

“Tom, you’re starting to worry me,” Victoria exclaimed as she quietly closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve gotten a request for help,” he hesitated. “From an old friend, in Strawberry.”

“Strawberry?” Victoria paled, ever so slightly, and turned away from him to look out the open window. “What kind of help does _she_ need?”

“I never said . . .”

“You didn’t have to,” she replied quietly, trying to blink back the tears that formed in her eyes.

“Victoria, love, it’s not like that,” Tom assured her quickly, stealing up behind her and pulling her back against his chest. “You know that I’ve never, not once, not since...”

“Not since her.” Victoria surrendered to her tears, letting them slip freely down her cheeks. “And now you’re going back.”

“Only for a day or two. Victoria.” He turned her gently in his arms, angling her face up to his. “Her son is sick and she needs a doctor. She saved my life, if there’s anything I can—”

“Son?” Victoria broke from his grasp with a horrified gasp. “There’s a child? You never—”

“No, Victoria!” Tom shook his head vehemently. “It’s not like that. He’s not mine. Leah would have told me if he was mine.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Why come to you for help? Why not go to the child’s father?”

“I don’t know, Victoria,” Tom snapped, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “All I have is her telegram, begging me to help her. I can’t turn her down, Victoria, you must know that. Not if there’s anything I can do to help save her son. Not after...” He left it unfinished, knowing Victoria was remembering the same hard winter and two small graves behind the house.

“No. Of course not.” She stepped away from him, her posture strict and formal. “I’ll start packing right away.”

“What? Victoria, you can’t mean to come with me.”

“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?” Victoria challenged, eyes flashing.

“What about Audra and Eugene?” Tom asked simply.

“I can ask Mrs. Carter to come stay with them for a few days,” she replied, taking a carpetbag out from beneath the bed. “Or we’ll bring them with us.”

“Victoria.” He reached out and grasped her hands in his. “You know what Strawberry is like. It’s no place for small children. Please, trust me.”

“Tom, I...” her voice wavered as she once more fought back tears.

“Victoria, I know I’ve given you no reason to, but please, please, trust me. I won’t let you down. Not again.”

Her eyes heavy with unshed tears, Victoria nodded once and fell into his arms.

* * *

Tom hitched his horse to the post in front of Leah’s small home. The ride to Strawberry had been hard and dusty, he was happy to be out of the saddle after the long hours on the trail.

Leah’s cabin, like so much in the mining town, didn’t measure up to the picture in Tom’s memory. It seemed smaller, sadder, its paint faded and chipped. But from inside, Tom could hear a soft voice raised in song, the words of the hymnal sweet and clear in the late afternoon air.

Although not Leah’s, the voice was strangely familiar and Tom searched his memory of those hazy, pain-filled days after he first awoke in Leah’s home. Hannah. Hannah James. The escaped slave whom Leah had taken in and made a part of her family. 

Tom knocked on the front door and waited anxiously, listening to the quiet shifting going on inside and the shuffle of footsteps as someone approached the door.

“Yes?” Hannah squinted up into the setting sun, trying to make out the features of the tall man standing on her doorstep. “Can I help you?”

“Is Leah about?” Tom inquired nervously, removing his hat and glancing about at the cabin’s neat, but well-worn furnishings.

“Miss Leah’s gone into town. She be back in a bit.” Hannah eyed him curiously. “Is there somethin’ I can do for you, sir?” A harsh coughing from the small bedroom behind her drew Hannah’s attention away from the stranger at the door and she hurried into the room. “It’s all right, baby, Hannah’s here now. She’s gonna take good care of you.”

Tom followed quietly, waiting in the doorway as Hannah ministered to the sick child. At his first glimpse of the painful thin boy, Tom felt his heart turnover in his chest.

The shock of blond hair surrounding the fever-flushed face was a sharp contrast to Hannah’s dark skin as she cradled the boy to her chest and gently patted his back. “That’s it baby, cough it up.” Hannah crooned as she lovingly rocked the boy. “You just cough it all on up.”

“Can I help?” 

Hannah started, looking over her shoulder as though she’d forgotten about Tom. “I’m sorry, mister, I feel as though I should know you, but I don’t recall who you are.”

“Thomas Barkley, Hannah,” he replied, slipping the boy out of her arms and settling him over his own shoulder. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Dear Lord.” The color seemed to drain from Hannah’s dark face as she stared at Tom. “Sweet Lord in Heaven, what are you doing here Mr. Barkley?” She stood quickly, wringing her hands and pacing the length of the tiny room. “What would Miss Leah say? You can’t be here. You just can’t . . .”

“It’s all right, Hannah.” Tom barely glanced up from his precious burden to reassure the older woman. “Leah sent for me.”

“She did?” Hannah stopped her pacing, joy blossoming on her face. “Thank the merciful Lord. I told Miss Leah again and again that she oughta told you about this. But that girl, sometimes she just too stubborn for her own good. Just plain mule-headed, that’s what she is sometimes.” Hannah chattered away nervously. “I’ll just go put on some tea, that’s what I’ll do. You just, you just wait right here, Mr. Barkley, I won’t be but a minute.”

“Hannah, wait, you didn’t tell me. What’s wrong with Leah’s boy?” Tom brushed sweat-tangled bangs away from the boy’s forehead. 

“He’s got the scarlet fever, something fierce.” She started wring her hands once again. “Miss Leah says that the whole town done got it.” She hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, looking worried. “I sure is glad you come Mr. Barkley. You’ll take real good care of our boy now, won’t you?”

“I’ll try my best, Hannah,” Tom replied quietly, wondering at the strong attachment he already felt for this boy. Laying him gently on the small bed, Tom again brushed the matted hair away from the child’s forehead, alarmed at the boy’s sudden increase in temperature. “Hannah! Hannah! Go fetch some water and towels. He’s burning up.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Barkley. Right away!” Hannah scurried frantically out of the house. 

Not waiting for her return, Tom striped the sweat-soaked clothes off the child, biting back angry words as he uncovered the bruises and scars marring the small body. 

“M-mama?” the boy called out weakly.

“She’s not here yet, son.” Tom grasped one thin hand and held it between his own. “But she’ll be here real soon. I just want you to rest now. Can you do that for me?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, reveal a flash of bright blue, and Tom felt a knot form in his stomach. My God, the boy’s eyes were just like— But that was impossible. Leah would have told him. Surely, something so important, she would have told him. 

“Hannah? Hannah, whose horse is that?” 

Tom tore his eyes away from the boy and looked through the doorway, catching his first sight in years of the young woman who had so captured his heart that he’d betrayed his wedding vows for her. Although she looked tired and thin, Tom could see that time had been gentle with Leah. Her auburn hair, swept up and away from her face, still shone, and her hazel eyes still sparkled with life.

“Leah.” He rose slowly, crossing into the next room.

“T-Tom?” Leah shook her head in denial, backing a step away from him. “What are . . . What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“How could I not come when I received your telegram?” 

“Telegram?” Leah asked, glancing fearfully past him into the room where her son lay. “What telegram?”

Before he could answer, Hannah burst into the room practically dragging the heavy bucket of water behind her. “Here’s the water, Mr. Barkley.”

“Water? What’s—I don’t understand.” Leah reached for Tom’s arm as he took the bucket and started back toward the room. “Tom, what are you doing?”

“It’s for the boy, his fever’s gone up.” Tom took the bucket from Hannah, hefting it up easily, and carried it into the room with Leah trailing behind him. “Get me some clean cloths, we need to get his fever down.”

Leah hesitated, hovering in the doorway, torn between helping her son and the shock of seeing a man she’d long tried to forget.

“Leah! Now, go,” Tom barked when she didn’t move quickly enough.

With a nod of her head, she hurried into the other room and rifled through the basket of clean laundry Hannah had left by the front door, pulling out a handful of towels. “Tom.”

Tom grabbed the top one, tore it in half and wet them both. “Here, you take his legs.”

Leah took the wet towel from him and set to working next to him. They both worked silently, taking careful pains to make sure they never accidentally brushed against one another as they wiped down the feverish child. 

Tom wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally laid a hand gently on the boy’s forehead and found, while still too warm, it was no longer burning hot. “His fever’s down.”

“Thank God.” Leah blinked back her tears as she sank to the floor next to the bed.

“He’s a handsome boy, Leah,” Tom commented, absently stroking the boy’s sweat soaked hair away from his forehead. “I’m glad you took my advice and started a family of your own.”

“What are you doing here?” Leah asked, letting her anger beat back the fatigue that only moments before had seemed overwhelming.

“I told you, Leah, I received your telegram,” Tom replied wearily. “You couldn’t possibly believe I wouldn’t come after all you did for me.”

“Tom, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never sent you any telegram.”

“Someone did.” He picked his coat up from where he’d discarded it on the floor and reached into one of the pockets, handing the carefully folded piece of paper over to her.

Leah read and reread the telegram carefully, shaking her head the entire time. “It wasn’t me. I never sent this to you, Tom. I never would.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “Your boy is sick, you must’ve known he needed help and that I’d never turn you down, not for something you needed.”

“Anything, but you,” she said quietly. “Tom, it’s late, I’m tired. I appreciate your help with my Heath, but I think you should be going now.”

Tom nodded his absently, his eyes still on the sleeping child as he slipped into his coat and starting for the door. “I’ll be back in the morning with the doctor.”

“Tom, you don’t need to--” Leah began.

“Yes, Leah, I do.” He looked down at the boy once more, again feeling his heart turn over as something in him demanded recognition. “Leah, how old is he?”

Eyes still on sleeping child, Tom missed the flash of panic that crossed Leah’s face. “Six. He just turned six in November.”

“Six?” Tom replied, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss. “And his father?”

“D-dead,” Leah stammered. “Drowned in the river when Heath was still a baby.”

“I’m sorry, Leah, it must’ve been hard on you.”

“I’ve lived through worse,” she said quietly, following him to the doorway. “Go home, Tom. You don’t belong here anymore. You never did.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Ciego?”

“I am sorry, Senora Barkley.” The stable hand looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, holding his hat in hand as he reported to his boss’ wife. “I checked with the telegram office twice. There was no word from Senor Barkley.”

“Thank you, Ciego.” Victoria tried hard to keep her worry from showing on her face. “I’m sure Mr. Barkley just got into Strawberry too late to send a telegram.”

“Si, Senora Barkley. Would you like me to check again in the morning?”

“Please.” Victoria managed a smile for the nervous man. “I would appreciate that greatly.”

“Yes, Senora.” Ciego bowed his head nervously and hurried out of the house.

“Mother?”

Steeling the worry from her face, Victoria turned to look up at her fifteen-year old son standing at the top of the stairs, his younger brother peering around his shoulder. “Yes, Jarrod?”

“Is something wrong?”

Victoria spared a moment to wonder at how Jarrod always seemed to know when something was bothering her, no matter how well she’d believed she’d hidden it. “No, sweetheart, I was just hoping to receive a telegram from your father, letting me know that he had reached Strawberry safely.”

“You don’t think somethin’s wrong, do you?” Nick asked, his young face starting to reflect the worry she felt.

“I’m sure your father’s fine.” She gathered her skirt and started up the grand staircase. “He got a late start yesterday and probably didn’t make it to Strawberry until after the telegraph office had closed.”

“I still don’t understand why father had to leave so suddenly in the first place.” An all too familiar frown creased Jarrod’s brow as he pondered this, working to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit in that brilliant mind of his.

“Your father and I both told you, Jarrod. He’s gone to help an old friend.” Victoria paused at the top of the stairs and brushed a hand across her son’s forehead, smoothing away the worry lines. “He’ll only be gone a few days.” She silently prayed she was telling her sons the truth.

“But what friend?” Jarrod continued. “Father’s never mentioned any friends in Strawberry before. He hasn’t even been back there to check the mine since-“

“Jarrod, please!” Victoria couldn’t help snapping, her patience worn thin by a day and a half of anger and worry. “You’re upsetting your brother.”

“No, he’s not,” Nick protested with a scowl. “I wanna know why father had to go, too.”

“Want to, not wanna, Nicholas.” She pressed a hand over her eyes and drew a breath. “Please, boys, just go on to bed. Your father will explain all of this when he returns.”

“Yes, mother.” Both boys exchanged a look, but did as their mother requested.

“Please hurry home, Tom. Please.”

* * *

Tom tossed his saddlebags on the dusty hotel bed and sank wearily into the old rocking chair beside it. Dear Lord, he knew it would be hard to see Leah again, knew she had every right to be angry with him after the way he’d misled and used her, but he hadn’t realized how much her anger would hurt.

Then there was the boy. Six, Leah had said. Born at least two years after he’d left Strawberry. So why did his heart tell him different when he looked at the child? Why did that brief glimpse of eyes the color of cornflowers set his pulse racing?

Lord, he wished Victoria was here. She had a way of looking straight through to the root a problem and coming away with the truth, the same way Jarrod did with his sharp mind and quick wit.

Tom pulled off his boots, dropping them to the floor next to the bed and quickly stripping down to his long johns before climbing in. His last thought before drifting into an exhausted sleep was of a lost little boy with blue eyes and hair the color of corn silk.

* * *

_“Mama s’hot.”_

_“I know, baby. I know.” She wrung out the rag and dipped it into the bowl of cold water next to the bed and immediately began washing down the small boy’s sweat covered body. “It’ll be all right, baby. Everything will be all right.”_

_She saw a brief flash of blue as her son’s eyes cracked open and looked at her, his gaze so full of love and trust. “Daddy’s gone for the doctor, he’ll be right back. He’ll be right back.”_

_She dipped the rag once more, trying to block out the painful rasp of the boy’s struggle to breathe. “Please hurry, Tom. Please.”_

“Tommy.” Victoria sat up with a gasp, her hand clutched at her throat. She hadn’t dreamed of that night in years, pushing aside her pain to focus on counting her blessings instead of her losses. But tonight that lost child seemed so near, as though she could rise from her bed and find him still sleeping in the small room down the hall, next to Nick’s.

Slipping on her robe, Victoria stepped into the hallway and made her way slowly down the hall. Silently, she checked on each of her sleeping children, hoping their peaceful faces could quiet the unease she felt in her heart.

“Mrs. Barkley?”

“Silas, what are you doing up so early?” Victoria eased the door to the nursery shut and wiped at the tears that had somehow found their way to her face.

“I was just getting breakfast started, ma’am. Thought I heard something up the stairs.” Silas eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. “Mr. Barkley’ll be home just as soon as he can, ma’am. He loves you and those children more than anything else on this Lord’s earth.”

“Yes, I know he does.” She smiled gratefully at him. “I’m just being silly.”

“Ain’t nothin’ silly about loving someone as much as you and Mr. Barkley do, ma’am.” Silas bowed his head respectfully. “If you don’t mind my saying, Mrs. Barkley.”

“No, not at all.” Victoria reached out and briefly squeezed Silas’ arm. “Thank you. Now, what do you say I lend you a hand getting breakfast ready?”

“That would be real nice, Mrs. Barkley. Maybe we can fix something special, like those cinnamon rolls Mister Nick likes so well.”

“That does sound nice.” Victoria took the arm Silas offered her and started down the stairs, neither of them noticing the door that closed softly behind them.

* * *

Leah brushed a tired hand through her hair before returning her attention to the sleeping child in front of her. Heath had had a restless night, tossing and turning, once trying to rise from the bed, insisting he had to go to work or Mr. Collins was going to beat him something fierce.

As much as it pained her mother’s heart to see her child so sick and suffering, Leah had to admit that there was another part of her that was glad for the distraction. As long as she could keep herself focused on Heath and his needs, she could ignore the awful churning in her stomach that had started the second she’d laid eyes on Tom.

Why, after all these years, was he here now? She didn’t need him, and neither did her son. They were doing fine on their own. Yes, it was a hard life, but it was an honest one, and they had each other. That was all they needed, all either of them needed. 

It wasn’t fair of Tom to come back and turn her life upside down again, to make her feel all those same feelings that had led her down the road to ruin years ago. Then there was Heath, the way Tom had looked at him, like he knew the boy, knew he was his. What if, God forbid, someone let the truth slip to Tom and he decided to take her son?

Matt, always looking for a way to make a quick dollar, so sure in his hatred of Tom. How little would it take for him to go to Tom and offer his silence for the right price? Matt had never understood what Leah had known in her heart, that Tom would never have turned his back if he’d known he’d left a child behind here. He would have done anything he could for the boy and even after all these years Leah was still so afraid that anything would include taking Heath away from her. Taking her son to be raised in that fine house in Stockton by that beautiful, much loved wife, and leaving Leah alone with nothing but memories of her son.

No! That wasn’t going to happen. No one, not God in his Heavens and surely not Tom Barkley, was going to take her son from her.

“Mama?”

“Right here, baby.” Leah brushed a kiss across Heath’s fevered brow. “Mama’s right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

“Nicholas!”

Victoria stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand planted firmly on her hip as she glared up toward her son’s room. “Nicholas Jonathon Barkley!”

“Would you like me to go get him, Mother?” Jarrod asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Would you, dear?” She kissed Jarrod lightly on the cheek. “Sometimes I swear it would take an earthquake to roust that brother of yours out of bed.”

“Or a stampede.” Jarrod joked as he started up the stairs.

“Yes, that just might do it.” Victoria continued on into the dining room, smiling at her three-year old daughter, who had managed in the brief moment her mother had been away to somehow get oatmeal in her hair and that of her twenty-month old brother across the table from her. 

“Audra, look at you.” Her scolding was met with a large sunny smile. “Don’t you smile at me, young lady. You know better than to throw your food,” but her tone was gentle as she wiped oatmeal from Audra’s pale blonde hair.

“MOTHER!”

Jarrod’s cry startled all three of them and Eugene burst into tears as Jarrod flew through the door into the dining room. “Mother!”

“Jarrod, what is it? What’s-“

He thrust a tattered piece of paper at her. “He’s gone.”

“What? Who’s-“

“Nick! He’s gone. He’s gone after father.”

“He what?” Victoria scooped the crying baby out of his chair and held him close as she hurried out into the entryway. “Silas! Silas!”

“Yes, Mrs. Barkley?” 

“Have Ciego saddle my horse and ask Mac to send one of the hands to Mrs. Carter’s. Have them ask her to please come and take care of Audra and Eugene for a few days.”

“Mother, I’ll come with you.” 

“No, Jarrod.” Victoria handed the now quiet Eugene over to his brother. “I need you to stay here and help out Silas and Mrs. Carter with the children.”

“But, mother-“

“Jarrod, please. I need to know that everything here is being taken care of.” Victoria brushed a hand through his hair, marveling at the young man he’d become. “I know that I can trust that to you.”

“Yes, Mother.” Jarrod’s eyes reflected her own worry back at her.

“I’ll send you a telegram as soon as I catch up with your brother,” Victoria promised as Jarrod trailed her into the study. 

“Send me one even if you don’t, just so I know you’re all right,” Jarrod replied. “Otherwise I’m going to take some of the men and follow after you in the morning.”

“Very well, dear.” She kissed his cheek lightly, wondering when her little boy had grown-up so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm waiting for another story to come back from beta, so I guess it's time to post more of this! Speaking of which, none of my betas are really into this fandom, so if you see any errors _please_ point them out.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Tom frowned, watching impatiently as the woman behind the check-in desk sorted through the papers in front of her, seemingly oblivious to his presence. “But I was hoping you could tell me where I-“

“I know it’s here.” She continued her search, running one hand through her hair and she rocked back and forth on her heels. “Somewhere here. Somewhere here.”

“Can I help you?”

Tom turned away from the woman in relief to face the man who’d just stepped in from the backroom. “Can you tell where to find the doctor?”

“Doc’s up in Bumblebee, won’t be back ‘till tomorrow.” The man’s eyes narrowed and he looked Tom over suspiciously. “Do I know you, mister? Barkley!” he spat out suddenly. “Didn’t think you’d show your face around here again.”

“Pardon me?” Tom eyed the man carefully, trying to place him.

“Come to see what you left behind last time?” The man seemed positively gleeful. “Leah know you’re in town?”

“You know Leah?” Tom asked, still unable to recall how he might know the man and feeling his unease grow.

“My sister.” 

“You’re Matt?” 

“’S’right.” Matt leaned forward, resting on the desk. “You back to see her, after all this time? Or did you come about the boy?”

“I came to help Leah out, her son is—”

_“Her son,_” Matt snorted softly. “Well, you best be running along then, hadn’t you? No doubt Leah’s waiting anxiously for you.”

Tom tipped his hat to the man’s wife, who was now watching him just as avidly as her husband had been and stepped out into the early morning air.

* * *

Nick leaned low over his horse, trying to coax a little more speed out of the young gelding. He knew he couldn’t keep this speed up, not all the way to Strawberry, but the more distance he put between himself and the ranch the less chance of his being caught and dragged back to face his mother’s wrath.

Didn’t matter if they did catch him, though, he’d just be off again soon as they turned their backs. There was something wrong going on, something his mother and father weren’t telling him. He’d known that as soon as father had announced this sudden trip to Strawberry. Saw it in the grave tone of his father’s words and painfully neutral expression on his mother’s face.

He wasn’t a little boy anymore, and whatever dangers his father was facing, Nick was going to face them at his side.

* * *

“Leah?” Tom pushed the door open and stepped into the small cabin, stopping in surprise at the sight of Leah sleeping fitfully on the small couch in the main room. This was the Leah he remembered, her expression softened in sleep, the anger and worry of the previous day replaced by the sweet innocence he’d fallen in love with.

“Can I help – Oh.”

Tom looked up to see Rachel Caulfield standing in the doorway that lead to the cabin’s only bedroom, her features pinched in a look of disapproval.

“Rachel.” Tom quickly removed his hat. After all these years, she still reminded him of the wife of stern old Minister that preached at the Lutheran church Tom’s mother had taken him to as a child. So much so, in fact, that he had to stifle the urge to peek over his shoulder and see if the Minister was standing behind him.

“Thomas,” she replied, her frown deepening. “It’s been many a year since we’ve seen you in these parts.”

“Yes, well.” He found himself fingering the brim of his hat nervously. “I didn’t really feel it would benefit Leah or myself to open old wounds.” Tom cleared his throat nervously and leaned to look into the room behind her. “How’s the boy doing?”

Her expression softened and she sighed deeply. “Poorly. He woke for a small while in the night and we tried to get him to eat some broth, but he brought it all back up.”

“How’s his temperature?” Tom stepped into the small room, immediately feeling the same tug of recognition when he set eyes on the boy. 

“Down some,” she replied, looking tired and spent. “That’s the first good news we’ve had in some days.”

“Why don’t you take some time to rest? I’ll look after the boy,” Tom suggested gently.

“The doctor?” Rachel asked hopefully.

“Up in Bumblebee,” Tom said, settling on the edge of the bed and watching as Heath twisted uncomfortably in the sweat soaked sheets. “The man at the hotel says he’s not due back until tomorrow.”

“You spoke to Matthew?” Rachel gasped, looking suddenly horrified.

“Just briefly.” Tom answered, distractedly, as he wiped a cool rag across Heath’s forehead. “I’d forgotten Leah had a brother. She didn’t speak of him much.”

“Because he is nothing more than a wastrel,” Rachel spat out. “An embarrassment to the good name of his family.”

Tom looked up at the bitterness in her words. 

“I am sorry, I have spoken out of turn.” Rachel nodded and started out of the room. “You and Leah send for me if you need anymore help with Heath. He—he is a good boy, our Heath, one any father would be proud of.” 

She left quickly, leaving Tom to ponder the strangeness of her parting words.

* * *

She was going to wring that boy’s neck this time, she really was. Just as soon as she got him safely back to the ranch and hugged the life out of him.

Of all the fool things Nick had done in his short life, and the good Lord knew there had been plenty, this was by far the most foolhardy. He knew it wasn’t safe for a young boy to be wandering around in the wilderness on his own. She and Tom had never spared telling their children about the harsh realities of life in the still untamed West, knowing the unvarnished truth was the only way to they prepare their children for the dangers that still lurked there. What he could be thinking, running off on his own like this . . .

Even as she thought this, though, Victoria knew what Nick had been thinking. He’d been confused and frightened by his father’s sudden departure and the strained, overly-polite atmosphere between his parents as his father prepared to leave. She’d known that both Nick and Jarrod had needed some further explanation, reassurance regarding this unexpected break in the family routine, especially at a time of year when they knew every hand was needed around the ranch. 

It wasn’t really surprising that hot-headed Nick, so openly devoted to his father, unsatisfied with her vague assurances, would feel the need to seek out his own answers.

She knew it was useless, following these same thoughts around in a circle, until she was half-crazy with worry, but with nothing other than the passing miles to keep her company, she had no way of banishing them.

* * *

“You’re back.”

“Told ya I would be.” Tom looked up at her with smile that didn’t reach his eyes and nodded toward the chair next to him. “Seems to be a little better this mornin’. Temperature’s gone down a bit since I got here.”

“The doctor?” she asked, perching uneasily on the edge of the chair.

“Up in Bumblebee, according to your brother.”

“You talked to Matt?” Leah asked, paling. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” Tom replied, watching the way Leah’s hands clutched nervously at her skirt and she shifted her gaze to the sleeping boy. “Just told me about the doctor.”

Leah breathed a sigh of relief. “Doesn’t matter, the doctor wouldn’t’ve come even if he had been in town.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t much like patients who can’t afford to pay him,” Leah answered, smiling gently as she smoothed out the threadbare quilt beneath Heath. “He does seem to be resting easier, doesn’t he?”

“He’s still too warm, though.” Tom laid a hand on Heath’s forehead. “I’ll feel better once the doctor’s had a look at him.”

“I told you, the doctor won’t—”

“I’ll pay him.”

“I’m not asking for your money, Tom Barkley!” Leah stood and stared angrily down at him. “My son and I are doing just fine on our own. We don’t need your help!”

“Just fine? Leah, I can count everyone of that boy’s ribs!” Tom retorted, gesturing to the boy. “He’s hardly more than skin and bones.”

Leah’s heart froze as she looked down at her son and for a moment she was tempted, so terribly tempted to tell Tom the truth, to let someone else bear the burden for a while. She turned to Tom, the words on the edge of her tongue as she met his eyes. Heath’s eyes. Those same eyes that had gazed so lovingly into hers, that had promised her a future and left her with only lies and a shame the whole town knew about. The words died unspoken.

“I think you should go now, Tom.” She pointed a shaky hand toward the door. “You’ve got no business here and no right to tell me how I ought to be raising my boy. Go home to your family and leave me to mine.”

“I’ve got some errands to run in town, but I’ll be back later.” Tom brushed his hand across the top of Heath’s head, smoothing down the messy strands. “If he’s not doing any better, I’ll ride up to Bumblebee and bring back the doctor.”

“Tom—”

“Good day, Leah.” He tipped his hat politely at her and left, leaving her standing in the small room, feeling lost and as if her life were slipping out of her control.

* * *

Tom stepped out of the telegraph office and made his way up the dusty main street toward the mine office. Barely aware of his surroundings, his mind wandering over all that had happened since he’d arrived, his feet carried him automatically up the once familiar path.

He knew he couldn’t blame Leah for the coldness and anger she’d shown him, Lord knew he’d given her enough reason for that. What he couldn’t understand was her insistence on not accepting any help from him. He could still remember that desperate winter when he and Victoria would have done anything, made any bargain, to save little Tommy and poor baby Phillip. How could Leah be any less willing to except whatever help might come?

“Help you, Mister?”

Tom looked up and found himself at the edge of the Barkley-Sierra mine’s office. “Is Mr. Collins around?” he asked the young boy sitting outside the small building.

“He’s inside.” The boy eyed him curiously.

“Thank you much.” Tom tipped his hat at the boy and took a long look around the yard, taking notice of the group of small boys congregated near the mine entrance, before stepping into the office.

“We ain’t hirin’,” a hard looking man barked out, without bothering to look up from the paperwork on his desk.

“That’s good to hear,” Tom replied, a crooked grin momentarily touching his face. “Means there aren’t any jobs being left undone.”

“I beg your—“ The man looked up and then stood quickly. “Mr. Barkley, sir!” He stretched a hand out to take the one Tom offered him and shook it enthusiastically. “Mr. Barkley, well, this sure is a surprise, sir. Haven’t seen you since you hired me to run the place. Must be four, five years gone by.”

“Something like that, Collins.” Tom pulled off his hat and scratched his head, taking a slow look around the shabby office. “I had cause to be in Strawberry and figured as long as I was I should take a look around the mines. See how things are running.”

“Of course, sir.” Mr. Collins grabbed his own hat off the rack by the door and gestured Tom out. “I’ll be glad to show you around, Mr. Barkley.”

* * *

Nick slowed his horse down to slow walk, angling him off the well-worn trail and toward the small streambed meandering through the hillside. He knew he still needed to put more miles between himself and the ranch, but he was enough of a horseman to know mistreating his animal wasn’t the way to get that done. He wouldn’t get far if his horse dropped beneath him.

“Here ya go,” Nick encouraged, dismounting and leading the horse the last few feet. “Drink your fill.” He loosened the horse’s cinch and started rooting around in the full saddlebags, looking for something to eat.

Pulling out a lump of cheese and some bread leftover from last night’s supper, Nick settled against an old oak tree and ate his lunch as he watched his horse graze under the blistering summer sun.

* * *

Hannah stood in the doorway of Leah’s small cabin, wringing her hands as she watched for any sign of Leah coming back up the trail, and praying that Leah didn’t go and do anything stupid. There was just no reasoning with that child when she got her mind up to do something. Just no reasoning with her at all.

If only little Heath hadn’t been so sick, she could’ve gone after Leah, tried to talk some sense into the child before it was too late.

But now she was gone, off to talk to that no good brother of hers. Oh, no good could come of this. No good at all.

* * *

“Here is the telegraph from your father, Senor Jarrod.”

“Thank you, Ciego. Did you send the one for my mother?” Jarrod asked, ripping open the envelope. 

“Si, I tell her that the telegram from your papa has arrived.” Ciego nodded enthusiastically. “But I doubt she will see it, she will find your brother and be back very soon, I am sure.”

“I hope so,” Jarrod replied vaguely, rereading his father’s telegram and trying to make sense of it.

_ARRIVED SAFELY. DOCTOR IN BUMBLEBEE. BOY ONLY SIX._

_Boy? _Jarrod wondered. _What boy?_

* * *

“Where is he?”

“What do you want?” Martha Simmons looked up from the stack of bills on the desk in front of her and scowled at her sister-in-law. “Didn’t we tell you about coming in the front door? Where any self-respecting person might see you?”

“Where _is_ he?” Leah snapped, looking angrily around the small lobby.

“Where’s who?” Martha asked, standing to block Leah’s way into the small office behind her.

“That no good brother of mine.” Leah pushed past Martha, sticking her head into the room. “I need to talk to him right now.”

“Well, isn’t that just too bad. Matt had some errands to run,” Martha replied slyly. “Said he might be going by the Barkley mine to have a talk with Mr. Barkley.”

“Tom?” Leah paled and took a step away from her sister-in-law. “Why?”

“Just doing his part.” Martha’s eyes glittered maliciously as she followed Leah. “After all, someone’s got to look after this family. See to it that Barkley pays what’s due us for looking after his boy.”

“No!” Leah’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, he can’t.”

“Oh yes he can! You just watch and see!” Martha laughed, sounding unhinged.

“You’d better pray, for all our sake’s, he doesn’t,” Leah spat out. “Because I’m not the only one here with secrets to keep, am I, Martha?”

“What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Come back here!” Martha started after Leah, trying to catch up with her as she hurried out into the dusty street.

* * *

“Nicholas Jonathan Barkley!”

Nick froze, a half-eaten apple in his hand, and tried to swallow past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He knew that voice, knew it only too well, and the tone didn’t bode well for his continued chances of survival.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Hello, Mother?” he answered, forcing as much false bravado into his voice as he could manage.

“Don’t you _‘hello, mother’_ me, young man!” Victoria snapped. “I ought to turn you over my knee right now and tan your backside! How dare you pull such a foolish and dangerous stunt! You know better than to take off on your own, out in the middle of nowhere—” She paused to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “What if you’d been hurt? Or gotten lost?”

Nick looked down at his boots, unable to meet his mother’s disappointed gaze. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t? Do you think that somehow makes what you did all right?” Victoria asked, not allowing herself to be moved by the pitiful picture Nick presented. “Get on your horse. We’re heading back to the ranch.”

“What?” Nick’s head snapped up and he gazed fiercely at his mother. “I’m not goin’ back!”

“Don’t you argue with me, Nicholas—”

“I’m not arguing and I’m not goin’ back,” he stated determinedly. “I’m going to help Father.”

“Nick, your father doesn’t need your help. What he needs is to know that we’re all safely back home—”

“No, ma’am.” Nick shook his head vehemently. “I’m not goin’ back.”

“Nicholas— fine.” She dropped her hands in defeat. “I told your brother to send me a telegraph in Angel’s Camp if word had arrived from your father. It’s only a few miles up the road. We’ll check there and then decide whether or not to go on. All right?”

“Fine,” Nick replied tersely. 

But she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that once they’d checked the telegraph office, no matter what the response, the only course of action that would be acceptable to him would be to continue on until he found his father.

* * *

“I hope it all meets up with your approval, Mr. Barkley.”

Tom just stood for a moment, eyes closed, and turned into the heat of the mid-afternoon sun, grateful for its warmth after the damp cold of the mine shaft. Then with a deep sigh, he turned his attention back to Mr. Collins. “You just take care of those timbers I pointed out to you. Saving money on a few timbers isn’t worth risking the lives of all those men workin’ in there.”

“No, of course not, Mr. Barkley,” Collins agreed, a little too quickly for Tom’s liking, but he let it go. “I guess it’s just been too long since the last time I inspected the mine. Those timbers were a little further gone than I’d realized.”

“Just see it gets done before they get any worse.” Tom took another long look around the yard, noting that most of the young boys he’d seen upon his arrival were still gathered about. “Collins, what are these boys doing around here? You know my policy on using charge boys. A mine is no place for children.”

“No, of course not, Mr. Barkley. Of course not. We just use a couple of them for runners, that’s all.” Collins did his best to hurry Tom into the office. “The rest, well, they just seem to hang about waiting for their fathers to get out of the mine. Didn’t figure it did much harm to let them.”

“Maybe not,” Tom replied, surveying all the tired young faces around him. “But I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Best you send them home before there’s an accident.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Collins turned to scowl at the collection of boys. “Go on home, all of ya! Get, before I tell your mamas you been hanging around the mines again!”

Tom watched the boys straggle off, in groups of two or three, with a sense of unease, wondering if perhaps it was time to pay a little more attention to the goings on of this particular investment. He’d let his guilt over Leah keep him away from Strawberry for too long, trusting on the word of his business partners and the mine manager, and keeping his eye only on the bottom line.

“If you’ll come this way, Mr. Barkley, we can look over those books. I think you’ll be real pleased with the profit we’ve been showing since we found that new vein this spring.”

* * *

Leah stormed up Strawberry’s main street, her hands clenched angrily at her sides, determined to find Matt and stop him before he destroyed everything.

“You stop it.” Martha caught up to Leah’s side, grabbing a hold of her arm and dragging her to a stop in the middle of the street. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, you just stop it right now!”

“Don’t you tell me what to do! I’ve taken enough from you and Matt. Trying to Lord it over me, like you’re somehow better than me because of Heath.” Leah shoved her sister-in-law away from her. “Don’t you ever forget I know the truth about why you’re both hiding out here in Strawberry.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Matt, talk to her.” Martha turned, wild-eyed, to him. “Make her see sense.”

“Sense about what?” Matt growled. “What’d you do now, Leah?”

“What did I do? What did you do?” Leah hissed. “How dare you send that telegram to Tom Barkley!” 

“What telegram?” Matt exchanged a look with Martha over her head, silently asking if she had any knowledge of this and turning back to Leah when she shook her head no.

“The one telling Tom that I needed him and to come to Strawberry.”

“I didn’t send any telegram, to Barkley or otherwise.” Matt’s expression turned vicious as he stared down at his sister. “But it’s about time Barkley faced up to his responsibilities, both to you and that boy. Bet he’d be willing to pay a fair amount to keep news of the boy quiet.”

“You listen to me, Matt,” Leah grabbed his arm and held tight. “If I hear that either you or Martha have breathed one word of this to Tom, I swear, my first stop will be at the telegraph office. Do you understand me?”

“Are you threatening me?” Matt growled, pulling away from her.

“Yes, Matt, I am. Do you think anyone in Kansas City has forgotten what happened there?” Leah squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I don’t care what you are to me, Matt, Heath is all I have and I will burn in Hell before I’ll let anyone take him from me. I won’t be too particular about who burns with me. The both of you just keep that in mind if you feel yourself starting to slip.” 

She turned on her heel and fled back down the street, leaving Matt and Martha staring dumb-struck behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

“What’s it say?” Nick asked sullenly, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the bare wall outside the telegraph office. Victoria nearly laughed at the stubborn set of his face, he was so sure the waiting telegram meant she was going to try and make him return to the ranch that he had his protests lined up and ready to go.

“It’s from Ciego, he says they received your father’s telegram letting them know he reached Strawberry safely.”

“I’m not going—”

“I sent a telegram to Jarrod letting him know—” Victoria went on, as if Nick hadn’t interrupted.

“—back! I don’t care what—“

“—that we’ll be continuing on to Strawberry and will send him a telegram from there in the morning.”

“—the tele- Huh?” Nick’s mouth hung open and he stared at his mother as if he could not quite believe what he’d heard. “We will?”

“We will,” Victoria repeated, threading her arm through Nick’s and leading him away from the telegraph office. “But first I think we should stop at the general store and pick up a few supplies for the trail. If we don’t make Jupiter by sunset, we’ll camp along the trail.” She patted his arm. “I’m not sure how happy your father’s going to be to see us, but I do understand how important this is to you, Nick.”

Nick ducked his head and nodded, showing an unaccustomed moment of bashfulness before suddenly kissing his mother on the cheek. “Thanks, Mother.”

Tears momentarily welled up in the corners of her eyes and she had to fight to keep her voice even, at eleven Nicholas had long since reached the stage where he shied away from any displays of affection from his parents, thinking himself too old for them. “You’re welcome, Nick,” she replied quietly, squeezing his arm briefly and directing him inside the general store.

* * *

Leah’s hands shook as she tried to close the cabin door quietly, all her righteous anger fleeing now that she was once more in the safety of her home. Good Lord, what had she just done? Matt might be scared of the law, but there was no predicting what Martha would do. She’d just as likely tell Tom the truth out of pure spite and the consequences be damned.

“Leah? Child, what is wrong with you? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Leah turned and flung herself into the older woman’s arms. “I’ve done the stupidest thing.”

“Leah, what is it?” Rachel led her over to the small couch and sat next to her. “What happened?”

“I threatened Matt and Martha.”

“You what? Leah, I don’t understand. Why would—”

“To keep them away from Tom.” Leah pulled away and wiped at the tears on her face. “I had to stop them before they told Tom something I couldn’t undo. Now I’m so afraid Martha will tell him just out of spite. No matter the consequences to her and Matt.”

“Oh, Leah, child,” Rachel stared at her in horror. “What possessed you to do something so foolish?”

“I had to stop them, Rachel.” Leah drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Make sure they knew they had as much to lose in this as I do.”

“Stop them? Leah, child, I do not understand. In all this time, they may have threatened, but they have never said anything to Tom.”

“Yes, but Tom’s never been right here in front of them, where all they had to do was drop a careless word or one of Martha’s thinly-veiled innuendos. They’ve never had the temptation of all that Barkley money just staring them in the face.” Leah took out a worn handkerchief and wiped at the tearstains on her face. “After that telegram, well, I just couldn’t take any chances. Only now, I’ve probably made things worse.”

“T-telegram?” Rachel asked faintly. “What telegram, Leah?”

“Tom received a telegram, telling him that my son and I needed his help. Rachel, I didn’t send that telegram, it had to have been Matt or Martha.”

“You do not know that, Leah.” Rachel crossed the room and stopped in the doorway to the small room where Heath lay. “There are more than a few people around Strawberry who know, or at least suspect, the truth about Heath’s father. Any one of them could have sent that telegram.”

“Why?” Leah asked. “Why would anybody else want to do something like that?”

“Maybe they were worried about the boy,” Rachel replied, her eyes never leaving the still boy. “Could be they were worried enough they felt it did not matter how he got help, just as long as he did.”

“Nobody in this town cares enough about Heath to do something like that.” Leah joined her in the doorway. “You know most of them’d rather see us dead than cross the street to help us.” Leah pushed gently past Rachel and perched on the edge of the bed, running her fingers lightly through Heath’s hair. “But it doesn’t matter, none of it matters as long as we have each other.”

* * *

“Can’t we go just a little further?”

Victoria took a deep breath, reminding herself how relieved she’d been just a few hours earlier to find Nick unharmed. “No, Nicholas, there’s only about an hour of daylight left. We need that time to get the horses settled and set-up camp for the night. Now, get Pinto unsaddled and tied down close enough to the stream that he can get some water.”

“Yes, Mother,” Nick mumbled, and Victoria could picture his hangdog expression as he set to his chore, no doubt continuing to complain under his breath about mothers and how they just didn’t understand. 

Pulling the saddle off her own mount, she slung the saddlebags over her shoulder followed Nick down toward the stream. Where, sure enough, he was sitting on a rock at the edge of the water, a scowl on his face as he chucked rocks into the stream and muttered quietly to himself.

Victoria felt a surge of affection for this middle son of hers, his temper so like her own had been before being tempered by the wisdom of age and motherhood. How often had her own mother thrown up her hands in frustration over the unladylike antics of her eldest daughter? What a relief it must have been for her parents when she and Tom had married and responsibility for her actions was lifted from their shoulders.

“Don’t pout, Nick. We’re less than twenty miles from Strawberry.” She tied her horse to the tree next to his. “If we leave at first light, we should make it to there in time to have lunch with your father.”

“Alright.” Nick shrugged and tossed another rock into the water.

“Nicholas,” Victoria admonished. “Start gathering wood for a fire. The sooner we eat and bed down for the night, the sooner we’ll get on the road in the morning.”

Nick rose from his rock and nodded, dropping the last of his rocks in the water at his feet, and started gathering up the pieces of wood littering the area in and around the clearing they’d stopped in.

Several peaceful moment passed as Victoria picked through the supplies she’d picked up in Angel’s Camp and meager rations Nick had packed in his own saddlebags, deciding on which to use to prepare dinner. Beans, always quick and easy trail food, but hardly Nick’s favorite. Although, Nick had no one to blame but himself if he found tonight’s dinner menu less than to his liking.

Victoria had just opened the second can of beans and dumped them in the small pot she’d purchased in town when she looked up to call Nick and felt her heart catch in her throat at the sight in front of her. Curled up on a rock, only inches from where Nick was bent over picking up a dead branch, was a long tan snake, its dark marking clearly visible in the failing light.

“NICK! DON’T MOVE!”

Nick barely had time to wonder what his mother was going on about now when a gunshot exploding in the small clearing, startling him into dropping the load of wood he carried and jumping backward.

“Nick, are you all right?” His mother was at his side before he had a chance to react further, checking him frantically. “It didn’t bite you, did it?”

“Didn’t what bite me?” Nick asked confused, as he tried to pull away from his mother.

“The snake,” she replied, pushing up his sleeves and running her hands up his arms. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” Nick groused, finally getting away from her. “What snake?”

“That one,” Victoria said, pointing to the snake on the rock, its head cleanly blown off.

Nick’s eyes widened as he looked from the dead rattlesnake to his mother and back again. “You shot that? Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” he asked in awe.

“Where’d I learned to shoot like that?” Victoria repeated, with a hint of a smile. “Who do you think taught your father?”

Nick’s eyes widened even further as he stared at his mother, trying to decide if she was joshing him or not.

“Come on, Nick, let’s get the rest of this wood collected and start the fire.”

Nick nodded mutely, picking up the last pieces and following his mother.

* * *

Tom bit back a tired sigh of frustration and hefted the bucket of water out of the cold mountain stream that ran a few yards behind Leah’s cabin. To the east, he could just make out the sun, battling its way over the rocky tops of the Sierra Nevadas. A normally inspiring sight that just left him more bone-weary and discouraged than he could remember feeling in years.

They’d been up all night, battling Heath’s fever, and nothing they did seemed to make one bit of difference. If anything, despite all their efforts, the boy’s temperature appeared to be inching ever higher.

Added to his worry about the boy was the strange tension he felt rolling off of Leah anytime he’d glanced up in time to catch her eye. More than the anger she so rightly held against him, was something Tom would almost swear was fear, although he couldn’t recall ever having given Leah reason to fear him. Hate him, oh yes, but fear him?

“You must be plumb tuckered out by now, Mr. Barkley,” Hannah fussed as he carried the bucket inside. “Why don’t you just let me take that while you sits yourself down to have a nice cup of coffee. Done made it fresh, myself.”

“Thank you, Hannah, don’t mind if I do,” Tom replied, setting the bucket just inside the small bedroom and letting a small sigh escape as he caught sight of Heath’s flushed face. The boy’s fever couldn’t have gone up more in the short time it had taken him to fetch the water, could it?

“Go on now, sit. Have yourself a couple of those biscuits I just pulled out of the oven.” Hannah pushed him gently back toward the worn kitchen table. “Go on.”

Tom acceded to her wishes, dropping into one of the chairs and gratefully pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was just working his way through his second biscuit when Leah’s scream reached him.

“HEATH!”

Breakfast forgotten, Tom tore into the room, pushing mindlessly past Hannah’s frail figure in the doorway. 

Heath lay on small bed, his tiny body taut as he convulsed.

“No, please, no. Heath!” Leah sat on the edge of the bed, sobbing, as she tried to hold him down.

“Move,” Tom pushed her out of the way as well and used his superior size and weight to hold the boy more firmly to the bed. “Leah, he’s burning up. We’ve got to get his fever down.”

“I KNOW THAT!” Leah screamed, shaking.

“A bathtub. Where’s there a bathtub?” he demanded. “Damn it, Leah, think! Someone in this town has to have one.”

“M-Matt and Martha. At the h-hotel,” she stammered.

“Come on.” Tom scooped the now limp boy up and hurried out of the cabin.

* * *

Martha groaned, reaching a hand up to her aching head before realizing the pounding she felt wasn’t only coming from her head, but from someone banging desperately on her bedroom door.

“MATT! MATT, OPEN UP, PLEASE!”

Leah. Martha’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. What was she looking for at their door at this hour? Especially after the spectacle she’d made of herself in the street yesterday. If she thought they were going to lift a hand to help her or that damn bastard of hers, she could have another think.

Just as Martha was fixing to lie back down and ignore her sister-in-law’s frantic cries, the door slammed inward, nearly pulled off its hinges by the force of Tom Barkley’s boot. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Martha spat out, outraged. “You’ve no right to come busting in here—”

“Where’s your bathtub?” Tom growled and Martha could see he was holding on tightly to the boy.

“Upstairs, but it’s only for the customers’ use.” Martha chanced throwing an angry glare at her drunken husband as he slept through the exchange. “And that boy’s no customer. Now get him out of my—”

“But I am! Now you get the tub to my room.” Tom backed out of the room, a panic-stricken Leah following closely behind.

Martha could just hear their hurried footsteps rushing up the backstairs as she reached across the bed and slapped Matt. “Get up! Get up, you lazy, drunken, no good excuse for a man. GET UP!” She punctuated each angry word with another slap.

* * *

Leah hovered anxiously at the end of the bed, her hands pressed to her face as she watched Tom wring out a folded cloth and lay it across Heath’s forehead.

“Where’s that damn tub?” he growled, glancing angrily back at the open doorway. “It should have been here by now. Leah, you better take over while I go see what the holdup is. Leah!”

She just stood at the end of the bed, those beautiful hazel eyes he’d fallen so deeply into now wide with fright and shock, unmoving as she stared at her son.

“Leah!” Tom was just rising as Matt Simmons limped into the room, a disgruntled expression on his face as he dragged a beat-up old tin tub behind him.

“Where you want it?” he grunted, ignoring his sister in favor of giving Tom a bleary-eyed glare.

“Next to the bed.” Tom gestured to a space a few feet away from him. “We need water, lots of cold water, and get it here quicker than you brought the tub.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Barkley, sir,” Matt replied sarcastically. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint a paying customer, now would we, Leah?” With a last sly look at his sister, he crept out of the room.

“This is all my fault,” Leah said quietly, beginning to tremble. “This is all my fault.”

“Leah?” Tom reached out a tentative hand and placed it on her shoulder. “Leah, I know it’s frightening to see your boy so sick, but he’s going to be all right. I promise.”

“Oh, Tom!” She flung herself so suddenly into his arms that he had to take a step backward to regain his balance. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh, Leah,” he crooned, wrapping his arms around her. “You don’t have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault Heath’s sick. There’s nothing you can do for the scarlet fever, but wait and pray it gets better.”

Instead of comforting her, however, his words only seemed to bring more tears and she clung tightly to him, sobbing.

* * *

“Excuse me?”

The woman behind the counter looked suspiciously up at Victoria, her gaze traveling across Victoria’s dusty clothing and over her shoulder to take in Nick’s equally unkempt appearance.

“We don’t give credit. You want a room, you’ll have to pay for it upfront.”

“Thank you,” Victoria replied, overly gracious. “But I believe my husband already has a room here.”

“Your husband?” the woman asked, a cunning look coming to her eye. “He wouldn’t be Tom Barkley, by any chance, would he?”

“Yes, he would,” Victoria said evenly. 

“Well, Mrs. Barkley,” she smiled, but the look of cunning never left her eyes. “Your husband’s right on upstairs. Room seven.” She handed a key across the desk to Victoria. “You go right on upstairs and let yourself in.”


End file.
